


Milestone

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because they're in a restaurant, Fluff, GET IT, Homophobia, M/M, Restaurants, SERVED, ah i'm wasted on this fandom, but the homophobic guy gets served
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has to deal with a homophobic customer - too bad he's awful at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milestone

Frowning, Arthur looks at the text he’d just received – it’s 7am, and Arthur’s about to go to work, but he knows what the text is going to be about before he even opens it. 

_‘Art! Gay Pride – get yo’ freak on! U wearing the buttons? U WEAR THE BUTTONS NAO BEEYATCH – Gwaine’._

Decidedly ignoring Gwaine’s god-awful texting skills (for crying out loud they’re both 25, not teenagers), he worries his bottom lip as his gaze switches to the buttons lying on his bed. Three brightly coloured pin-on badges, one with a rainbow-stained flag, one with two cartoon girls holding hands and one saying ‘Love is love, I’m a supporter of gay rights!’ Really, Gwaine? The man really is pushing it just a tad.

He’d only found out that Gwaine was indeed gay last year. The guy had the nerve to assume Arthur would judge him – really? Yeah, it’s a little… weird, Arthur admits. It isn’t that he feels uncomfortable around gay people, it’s just… Ah, nevermind. Arthur isn’t even all that sure himself. As Gwaine said, it’s just that Arthur’s never dealt with people who are different. Not that Gwaine’s different! He’s still Gwaine! It’s just - 

Oh, God. Arthur just doesn’t know. That’s the main reason he’s accepted the whole button-wearing thing, along with his support of Gwaine. Maybe he can begin to feel a bit less confused about the whole revelation – that will be it. Definitely. 

So Arthur shrugs on his jacket, his waiter’s uniform pristine in his bag, and tries not to think about it as he pockets the buttons. Before he leaves his flat, he taps out a quick message to Gwaine too.

_'Wearing the buttons. Learn to spell. – Arthur. (NOT ‘Art’. EVER.)'_

It’s a busy day in The Excalibur. Plenty of people, customers, and Arthur is run ragged left right and centre attempting to get the orders out to the mainly prestigious consumers – to afford to eat here, you have to comply to a dress-code be you customer or staff, and manager Gaius is one man you do not mess with. He’s known for firing staff on the spot simply for looking at a customer wrongly – Arthur finds him a little terrifying. 

True to his word though, he pinned the buttons to his uniform without Gaius’s permission an hour or so into his shift – the man would be in the back yelling at chefs until mid-afternoon, this Arthur is more than sure of. The other waiters, most of which Arthur get on with, seemed too busy to notice. In honesty Arthur forgets he’s wearing them pretty quickly too. The restaurant is positively heaving by 1pm, though things have been going surprisingly smoothly, and that’s when of course things have to muck up. 

A new table comes in, pre-booked for 1:30pm, and Guinevere shows them to their table without fuss. Arthur spots her walking towards him, genuinely smiling as per usual (how she can do that ALL THE TIME is beyond Arthur to be fair) and he steps forward with an equally blinding (though slightly fake) smile. Next to him is the new waiter – a tall man with a lot of stubble and a kind of hopeless look on his face. Arthur wonders if he’ll be fired by the end of the week.

“Arthur, would you mind getting table 9? The new one? I really have to go and see where table 12’s order has gotten to, and I’d hate it if they got upset, so…”

Arthur holds a hand up, his smile growing fond. Gwen’s renowned for her babbling, and it’s one of her more loved traits to those around her. “No problem. 9 is it? I’ll get on it now.”

Gwen smiles gratefully, and Arthur pulls out his electronic order pad before heading over to table 9. The table is for four; two men and two women. The women look surprisingly plain, where-as the men are dressed up in suits that probably cost a month’s pay for Arthur. Taking the women on dates, Arthur assumes. The class difference is visually apparent. 

“Good afternoon. I will be your waiter for today, Arthur Pendragon, and The Excalibur hopes to provide an excellent experience. Can I get you any drinks?” Arthur asks, script falling from his tongue with ease as he blasts a smile. The women blush profusely, both gabbling drinks quite quickly and straightening their dresses. The men, a brunette chubby man in a dark grey suit and a bearded blond man in a lighter grey suit, say nothing at first. 

“I can come back later if you have not decided yet?” Arthur suggests, thinking of the other tables he can quickly see to whilst this one continues to decide, but the brunette man coughs lightly and offers a surprisingly warm smile. 

“No, that’s okay. I think I’d like a –“

“We will not be served by you,” the blond haired man cuts in decisively. He looks up to Arthur with a hard, sharp look in his eyes, putting the menu down flat to the table. His three companions look shocked, the females gasping, and Arthur fights the threatening change in his own expression. He has to stay professional, no matter what, and if there’s a problem it’s his job to keep it to the table and keep everyone happy. 

“I’m sorry Sir, is there something wrong?” Arthur asks, unsure what to expect. The man hums, and leans back into his chair, all attitude as he looks up and down Arthur like a piece of meat. It makes Arthur uncomfortable. 

“Yes. There is. Do you know _‘that’s’_ immoral?”

“John! Pack it in!” the other man hisses. The blond, ‘John’, ignores him as Arthur’s expression finally slips into something a little more confused.

“I… Immoral? I don’t understand, Sir.”

Finally, the man points to Arthur’s shirt, where the pinned buttons lie. “Those. Gay rights, really? I don’t want to bring my friends out to an expensive, high-class food establishment just so the bloody waiter can rub his disgusting beliefs in my face,” John states, his voice rising slightly and dripping with arrogance. Arthur feels his skin flush to a burn in mere seconds. 

Disgusting? Really? Sure, Arthur had his doubts about the buttons, about Gwaine’s choice but not once did he think the man ‘disgusting’. Not once, and yet this man uses such a word to describe him. Arthur feels his free hand clench into a fist, but seeing as no one else in the restaurant is noticing the upset, he tries yet again to get the situation under control.

“I’m very sorry Sir that you are offended, but I firmly believe in… in people’s rights to love who they please! My very close friend is gay, and I don’t define him by that. He can love who he wants, male or female. I won’t remove the badges, but I apologize if you’re upset.”

Not that Arthur feels the man needs an apology at all – Arthur doesn’t feel as though he’s done anything wrong. But he doesn’t want to lose his job. Dammit, he just wanted to support his friend – to prove they’ll be mates no matter what. He didn’t want to cause a fuss over it. 

The man, bizarrely enough, laughs. It isn’t a nice laugh – it’s a low, booming one that quickly catches the attention of most of the restaurant. The rest of John’s table look at a loss, and Arthur really isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be dealing with this. 

“Are you blind? Stupid? Or perhaps brain-damaged?” the man says, voice loud and spiteful. Arthur is at a loss as the man stands up and towers over Arthur, looking as if he’s ready for an all-out fight. “’Love’ of a romantic sort is between that of a man and a woman – not anything or anyone else! That is my belief! Yet I do not wear ‘buttons’ and parade my opinion around the general public like the fool you are!”

Arthur feels very much like a deer in the headlights. In more acceptable circumstances, like a bar, Arthur would have simply punched the man out. Here he definitely can’t do that – not when the entire restaurant is staring at them. In the corner of his eye, he spots Gwen dart into the kitchens. Probably to get Gaius, Arthur presumes (hopes).

“Please calm down Sir,” Arthur mutters, stepping backwards. “We – We cannot accept offensive or violent behaviour in this establishment.” Is that what he’s supposed to say? The man hasn’t done anything violent. Will he though? Oh hell, what is Arthur supposed to do?!

“Calm down?! I –“

“Excuse me Sir, are you ill?” a new voice pipes up. Arthur can only stare as the new waiter – the one who looked so confused earlier on - steps forward, slightly in front of Arthur. The man looks lost for a moment. 

“Wh – Do I look ill, you idiot?”

Arthur can’t see the new waiter’s face, but from the looks of the man (John. Arthur really doesn’t want to refer to that man by his name, though…) it must be pretty… well, dim. 

“You do look a little pasty, Sir. How strange – I’ve heard there’s a terrible nasty bug going around.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? Are all the staff in here stupid?”

“Sir, you're positively white as a sheet! Do you feel hot at all? A little light-headed? I’ve heard the bug starts as something that suffers hardly notice, and then _**BAM,** _ ” the waiter suddenly shouts, making the man flinch, before letting his voice drop back down to a conversational tone again, “the sufferer is fighting for his life, skin burning to a crisp, boils consuming his tongue, blisters twisting under his fingernails and a delirium showing you sights worse than hell itself.”

The man really has paled considerably at this point, as well as one or two of the other customers. “I… N-now that you mention it, I am a little warm…”

The waiter clicks his tongue at the man’s statement, and Arthur is so damn confused at the bizarre exchange that he’s beginning to feel a bit hot too. Damn, he’d like to just leave right now, but instead the waiter pipes up again with a strangely genuine worry. “Oh my! Sir, that isn’t good at all! You simply must see a doctor! Such a rich and smart man as yourself cannot be taken down by a mere bug, just because he didn’t believe he was sick! No, Sir, I will not stand for this. You must see a doctor – immediately!”

The man’s eyes widen, and he looks ready to argue, but at the same time the doubt on his face is unmistakable. After a moment’s silence, he composes himself a little and tugs his jacket off, wiping his brown with the material. “George! Cath, Jennifer – We will be taking our leave now!”

With that, the table leaves faster than Arthur thinks possible, the innocent company of the man looking absolutely relieved. It’s only at this point that Gaius comes out, face like thunder, and Arthur, still confused as hell, is whisked away into the kitchens. The mystery waiter joins Arthur and Gaius as the man ferries them through the kitchens and into his own office. 

Strangely enough, Arthur isn’t fired. He also learns that the new guy is called ‘Merlin’, and is Gaius’s nephew. After a lecture on company policy and Arthur’s misconduct of the dress-code, both men are dismissed for the day. Not fired. Definitely not fired, so stop asking please Arthur okay now go home.

And so Arthur finds himself walking out of the back of the restaurant, next to the man – Merlin – next to Merlin, who hasn’t said a word yet. Still, they walk in-step into the main street, and Arthur finally says “Um… thankyou.”

Merlin blinks, confused, before breaking out into a grin. “Oh, thank god – I thought you were mute!”

“M… mute? I work as a waiter!”

Merlin’s smile grows cheeky. “You wouldn’t think it, the way you handled that customer.”

Arthur frowns yet again. The man seems more of a clueless idiot than Arthur gave credit…

“Actually, I wanted to say I thought it was kind of awesome – that you stood up for what you believe in. Not enough people do that y’know,” Merlin then says, voice gentle. Arthur feels his cheeks burn.

“O..Oh, well… yes.”

“Wow, you’re so talkative! No seriously, your conversation is riveting.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” Arthur asks quickly, irritable. The man chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Nah. Thought I’d walk you home. Or to your car. Or the bus. Or your motorbike. Oh, I hope you have a motorbike.”

Arthur shakes his head, bemused. What kind of bloke is this? Still, Arthur hasn’t the heart to turn him away, and so he says “why did you do… Well, that? And you were so convincing, too!”

Merlin stretches his arms far over his head, reminding Arthur quickly of a cat as they walk easily in pace. “You looked as though you were going to have a heart-attack, mate. Everyone else looked kinda hopeless so I stepped in – I kind of made up the illness thing on the stop. Pompous asses tend to want to stay healthy so they can continue being pompous asses.”

Arthur surprises himself and lets out a sharp laugh. This seems to amuse Merlin more than anything else, and the man grins manically. At this point, they reach Arthur’s car. (Not a motorbike, sorry there, but I’ll work on buying one maybe. No not really. Idiot)

Merlin rubs the back of his head, before holding out his hand. He looks like he doesn’t want to leave Arthur at all, but says goodbye anyway. Arthur looks at the outstretched hand, before sighing deeply. 

“If you want, seeing as we’ve the day off now, we can go –“

Merlin’s in the passenger seat before Arthur can finish his sentence, and Arthur can’t help but feel there’s a milestone here somewhere. He isn't even sure where they can go - but Merlin doesn't seem to mind. Arthur swallows back, and decides he doesn't mind either.


End file.
